


Ars Gratia Artis

by Nevermakemeblue



Category: South Park
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power bottom Kenny, References to Drugs, Shotgunning, Top Stan Marsh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2018-07-14
Packaged: 2019-06-10 11:48:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15290871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermakemeblue/pseuds/Nevermakemeblue
Summary: Bored with nothing to do, Kenny gets Stan high for the first time. It goes how you'd imagine.Written for the SP Kink Meme.





	Ars Gratia Artis

**Author's Note:**

> So I was lurking on tumblr the other day and discovered the SP Kinkmeme. First off ya’ll need Jesus. Second, this prompt in particular I liked a lot. So I drank about a gallon of wine (probably not but like maybe? Idk ya’ll need to get on the metric system) and this is what I came up with.
> 
> https://southparkkinkmeme.tumblr.com/post/175660185869/kenny-letting-stan-get-high-with-him-for-the-first

Stan’s bedroom door clicked shut behind them, but he made no move to venture any further into the room. Instead he pressed against it, watching his friend stride into his room with the confidence of a native. Shrugging off his jacket, Kenny stretched out and looked at him over his shoulder. He laughed at what he saw.

“Would you relax, Stan, you look like I’m about to eat you,” he chuckled, giving him a wide berth into the room (his own room, what the hell was Stan playing at?). Letting his hand drop from the doorknob, Stan drew closer.

“Well you’re not exactly here to behave, are you?” he muttered, to which Kenny’s laugh only bubbled more.

“When am I ever?” he grinned, sitting down on the floor, “but seriously, if you don’t want to do this we don’t have to.”

“No, I’m good,” Stan replied, running a hand jauntily through his hair, “I want to try it. I just have a few hang ups about this whole thing.”

He wasn’t lying. What his parents had failed to get across with Motivation Corp, Stan had learnt pretty quickly from watching his dad over the years. He’d only changed his mind now because curiosity got the best of him.

Across from him, Kenny stroked his chin sagely.

“The ‘Just Say No’ foundations are strong in this one.”

“Suck my dick, McCormick.”

“All in due time Marsh,” He winked, reaching into his pocket, “how about we deflower you first?”

It was summer vacations. Anyone and everyone with better things to do with their time had left town. Last Stan had heard, Kyle and Cartman were in Sweden having it out over literal trolls this time. They’d wisely decided to sit that one out.

In contrast, Stan and Kenny had come back home. He hadn’t known what possessed him, only that after two years in college it was easy to romanticise it. He’d conveniently forgotten how terrible everything was in the process. Too many months of city people filling his head with how lovely South Park must be, how quaint life in the mountains must be, had brainwashed Stan somehow.

Either way, he was back, and if South Park was shitty for a ten-year-old, it was fucking hell for a twenty-year-old. Stan was crawling out his skin looking for something to do. Luckily, Kenny was there too and as always had the solution ready: ‘Let’s just get high man. An uneventful life is a successful life’

He said it again now as he smashed the leaves with the teeth of his grinder. Stan could smell it already, a sickly scent that tickled at his nerves. Not enough to actually affect him, but more like the stray notes of an orchestra before they began to play.

“Just remember what Chef used to say. There’s a time for everything and that’s college. Technically you’re late my dude.”

“Damn, I’ve never even hired a hooker. He’d be so disappointed in me.”

Kenny chuckled. He had a packet of papers between his teeth and was looking at his fingers as they worked with the practised ease of a habitual pothead. Well, that wasn’t giving him enough credit. Kenny actually rolled his own normal cigarettes too, enjoying the artistry that went into it. Watching him now, Stan kind of got it.

He’d tried to teach Stan once, but that had quickly gone up in smoke when by the third roll, they still looked more like cones than rolls. Kenny kept them taped to the fire extinguisher back at their dorm room like his own personal Museum of Failure. He said it kept Stan humble. Stan had retaliated by putting up every failed test or embarrassing photo they’d ever taken. It was also where they tallied up Kenny’s deaths. Even now, it was a weird one to explain to visitors.  

Stan dropped to the floor. Sitting across from his friend, he watched the light from the window behind illuminate the tips of Kenny’s blonde hair. In the summer sun, Kenny glowed gold. His eyes were deep-set and unreadable under the delicate arch of his lashes. His nose was fine like his mother’s, curving upwards a little at the end, but he had the hard, defiant lips of his father. Stan watched him work, tracing every dip and rise of his face.

He wanted to tell him he was beautiful, but how did you say that to your kinda-sorta, on and off for five years, fuck buddy without somehow breaking the rules?

Around them, the house was quiet, but Stan’s heartbeat was in his ears.

“You’re good at that,” he murmured, leaning forward.

Kenny glanced up at him briefly as he began to rub the paper between the pads of his fingertips.

“You have to work for your lung cancer.”

“I’ll say, it’s a joint not an exhibition piece Ken.”

“Whatever, ars gratia artis, dude.”

“What?”

“Art for art’s sake. If I can make it beautiful why shouldn’t I?”

“Fuck, college has made you such a douche.”

Kenny only grinned, bringing the paper to his lips, he licked along the edge. Stan should have looked away, but Kenny’s eyes burned into him impossible to ignore. How did he always seem to know exactly what Stan was thinking?

With a final twist of the fingers, Kenny was done, and smiling triumphantly, he lifted the joint up between his index and middle fingers. Flicking his gaze to Stan, he leaned his weight forward and brought the joint to Stan’s lips.

Stan didn’t look away. He met the challenge head on and parted his lips. Kenny’s eyes were like honey, viscous and brown. Course fingertips brushed against Stan’s lips and he closed them around the joint. Kenny’s pupils dilated when they touched, swallowing him whole.

“You ready, Stan?”

Even without smoke the atmosphere in the room was thick as syrup. Stan had forgotten himself; he’d forgotten Kenny, at least the Kenny from his childhood who huffed paint and set manure on fire. This guy here was a whole different animal with the unsettling ability to make Stan nervous.

“Give it here,” Stan said, taking the lighter from Kenny’s hands.

Stan had smoked cigarettes once before with a girl from North Park he’d met at a football game. He knew how it worked in theory, but when the fire caught, the smoke scorched down his throat like claw marks wrecking his chest. He sputtered, gagged, then let the coughs pour out of him.

Kenny didn’t laugh at him the way the girl had done, but he did smile compassionately at Stan’s struggle.

Shifting his weight so their knees pressed together, Kenny squeezed Stan’s wrist comfortingly and murmured, “take your time dude. It’s going to burn the first few times.”

And it did. For the little while Stan smoked the coughs followed soon after. Cursing, he wasn’t surprised to hear that his voice was just as ravaged and hoarse as his throat. Grimacing, he passed it back to Kenny who took it gratefully.

The smoke trailed from Kenny’s lips like ivy growing up his cheeks, through his hair then out into the room. Stan followed its path. Breathing in the perfume, he closed his eyes, letting it get into his clothes and erode his senses.

“What’s the capital of Peru?”

It brought him back down. Clearing his mind, he looked to his friend, but it took him a moment to process the words and even longer to reply.

“Lima?”

Kenny grinned.

“Correct,” he smiled, handing over the joint. Stan took it, taking a drag. This time he actually managed to hold it for a second before giving in.

With hiccups and smoke spilling from his mouth, he held the joint before him and said, “who invented dynamite?”

“Alfred Nobel.”

The joint was exchanged again.

“Who goes to heaven?”

“Mormons.”

Something appreciative flittered across Kenny’s face.

It passed again.

And so it went. For the next ten minutes, they asked each other questions, exchanging the joint each time until it had burned down to a thimble. With only the end left, Stan rolled it lightly between his fingers. It had hit him already. His eyelids felt heavy, but the rest of him was suspended in air, floating as if on a drop ride about to descend.

Stan rubbed his own jawline slowly, enjoying the feel of intermittent stubble under his fingertips. With a lazy smile he said to Kenny, “Canada’s first ever Prime Minister?” then with a giggle, “the premier premier.”  

Kenny looked better than him probably. Stan couldn’t be sure, but at least Kenny wasn’t running his hands all over the place and constantly fading in and out of focus.

“What?” Kenny snorted, “What kind of question is that?”

“They’re our brothers to the North, Ken. You gotta get clued up.”

“Go on then who is it?”

Stan snorted.

“How the fuck should I know? Like anyone gives a crap about Canada dude.”

Kenny cussed him out and grabbing the pillow from Stan’s bed, threw it at him before they both collapsed in laughter. Stan blocked assault fast enough, but moving his arm made him aware of it and how it felt like it was wobbling like spaghetti.

_Oooh spaghetti._

Stan passed the stubby end over to Kenny. He could see the words about how ~generous~ that was of him even before his friend got them out. Stan cut him off. Clapping a hand down heavily on Kenny’s mouth, he leaned into him, bringing their faces dangerously close together.

“Ken.”

“Phmhm.”

Wow throwback. Stan grinned and let his hand drop. Kenny looked so amused. It was how he carried himself, as if he had his own private joke playing through his head at all times. Stan wanted to pop the bubble. No wait. He wanted to be let into the bubble.

“I think we need snacks.”

“I think you’re right.”

Stan smiled brightly. Patting Kenny’s knee, he rose to his feet.

“I’ll go get some. You stay here and roll another one,” he said with a stretch. Kenny looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow sceptically.

“Another one?”

“Yeah, Khaled, you heard me.” Stan grinned even when Kenny rolled his eyes at him.

“Fuck, you have shit taste in music.”

“Don’t come at me with your hipster shit, McCormick. There’s chips to be eaten.”

Kenny just rolled his eyes harder, but he was already doing as he was told.

“Yeah, yeah. Get outta here.”

Stan was still laughing when the door slid shut behind him, and still grinning when he came back fifteen minutes later arms laden with anything and everything he could find in the kitchen. Kenny couldn’t help but snort a laugh at how please he looked with himself. But holding up a second joint, he looked about as happy.

Dropping the bags to the floor, Stan reclaimed his spot. He grabbed blindly for a packet of Twizzlers and watched Kenny light up again. Taking a drag, Kenny passed the joint right away.

When he inhaled this time, it was like starting all over again. His throat was scratched raw and a lump of coal settled in Stan’s chest, burning away alongside his heart. The coughs were ripped out of him so savagely it felt like someone had reached into his gullet and pulled.

“You know you really suck at this,” Kenny said, watching him impassively. Stan only managed a few words around the coughs.

“I’m trying, dude,” he said, clutching his throat at how hoarse he sounded. Kenny made the whole thing look so easy too. Just so effortlessly sexy.

Stan let the joint be plucked from his fingers. Kenny didn’t take a drag immediately, but instead regarded it thoughtfully, rolling it between his fingers.

“Want to try something else?” he said it coolly, casually, and Stan frowned at the ambiguity.

“What?” he asked, but Kenny only shook his head. Reaching his hand forward, Kenny ushered him closer.

“Come here.” Kenny’s voice was a low murmur; it was entrancing. Stan crawled forward, too curious to resist. He stopped short just in front of him. Maintaining steady eye contact, Kenny brought the joint to Stan’s lips just as he had the first time, however, this time the joint was the other way around. Stroking a hand along his jaw, Kenny threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of Stan’s neck, whispering to him. “Stay still.”

Stan closed the joint between his teeth. He tried to track Kenny’s fingers with his gaze, but his eyelids were too heavy and all he could see were lips. He was brought back to the moment when Kenny moved.

Closing his eyes, Kenny inhaled. The end lit up in Stan’s mouth, burning angry in the closed space between them, but it didn’t hurt. Kenny exhaled into him and Stan inhaled sharply, helpless to do anything else.

The smoke surged into him, but there was no reflux, no coughing. When Kenny plucked the joint from his teeth, the smoke followed softly, forming a haze between them. Kenny wasn’t smiling when he pulled away this time, but he stared at him.

Something raw and exposed passed between them, engulfing them just as the plumes of smoke that swamped the room.

Stan gulped, unconsciously licking his lips. Fuck, he was in deep here.

“Can we try that again?”

He tried so hard to keep his tone neutral, but with the way Kenny looked at him, smiling knowingly, he’d probably failed. Kenny didn’t just lean forward this time. He moved entirely. With effortless grace he bridged the gap between them, sliding into Stan’s lap until their chests were pressed tight together.

Stan had to arch his neck to maintain eye-contact, but he didn’t want to look away. He didn’t want to miss those eyes when Kenny looked down on him and inhaled. Excitement shot through Stan’s body. He hoped he didn’t moan, but as overwhelmed as he was it just might have leaked out.

Kenny’s hand cupped his chin, and Stan let himself be pulled forward as his friend shot gunned him again.

The heady scent was stronger from Kenny’s lips. It flooded Stan’s lungs and fluttered his eyelashes. Before he knew it, he was running his hands up Kenny’s thighs and rubbing small circles into the dip of his hips.

“Fuck,” he gasped; it sounded warped and desperate from his clenched teeth. He pressed a little harder.

Kenny was rocking into him, only slightly, but enough that Stan was getting hard under the touch. From the waist up, however, it was as if nothing was happening. Kenny was smirking at him with that same knowing mirth and it was slowly driving him to distraction. He wanted to reach out and bite those lips. He wanted to kiss that smirk away. As if reading his mind, Kenny brought their mouths together again.

This time, Stan gulped it down, and when Kenny tried to lean away again, he didn’t let him. Pulling the joint away with one hand, Stan curled the other into Kenny’s hair, pulling him into a kiss.

Their lips moved slow and dirty, smoke trickling from the spaces between them. Stan felt it hot against his skin, mingling with their breath and sending a thrill of excitement through him. Kenny wrapped his arms around Stan’s shoulders. With a groan, he started to rock for real.

 The last time they had kissed like this was probably about ten months ago. Kenny liked to have sex to relieve tension, to reaffirm his existence. After a particularly nasty death, he’d come to Stan. They’d do shots, Stan would hear him out, and then they’d fuck until they both felt alive again. In return, Kenny was there to catch him whenever Stan risked falling apart.

It was a crutch, not love.

Stan slipped a hand around Kenny’s ass. The joint was still in his other one. Searching blindly, he dropped it into the ashtray. He didn’t stub it out but left it to burn like incense at an altar. As soon as his other hand was free, he slipped it under the front of Kenny’s shirt. All the while they kept kissing. With five years under their belt, they had it down to an art; it was languid, almost decadent.  

Kenny touched him just as he did his cigarettes: slowly and purposefully and finely attuned to every bump and hitch of Stan’s breathing. He knew that when he traced the soft skin behind Stan’s ears, it would send tremors and goose bumps down his arms. He knew if he kissed it, Stan would whimper, his head would spin. There was no going back from there.

Stan’s mind was already clouded, but under Kenny’s touch he lost it all. Swearing, he lowered his head, biting into Kenny’s neck and relishing the sounds he got in return. Kenny didn’t hold back when they did this. He pulled Stan along, disintegrating any barriers along the way.

 Stan squeezed his ass. Kenny keened forward, and their half-hard dicks pressed together. Gasping and grunting, they grinded together. The friction built between them and the already hot air grew heavy. The smoke, the sun, the kisses, everything came together into a haze. Stan felt like he was in a desert, somewhere vast and dry where the air played with your judgement, decaying your ability to think.

He wanted to fuck. Slow and deep. He wanted Kenny to swallow him.

Kenny pulled his own shirt off first, then he took Stan’s. This time when they came together in a kiss, the press of naked skin against his own rushed excitement through him. Now fully hard, Stan guided Kenny’s movement against him so they were rolling together. The friction sparked through his dick, drawing short gasps from Stan’s lips, but it wasn’t enough.

Completely in synch, they unzipped their jeans. Kenny had to get up to do so, dropping everything so he was standing before Stan completely naked. For a moment, he stayed where he was, hands at his sides, staring down at him. On the floor, Stan slipped his own clothes off. He couldn’t help it, stroking himself, he finally let slip the words that had been under his tongue all afternoon.

“Fuck you’re beautiful.”

Kenny smiled, but curled in on himself unconsciously under Stan’s reverent gaze. He may even have blushed, but in the blinding light from behind him, Stan couldn’t be sure.

“Where’s the lube?”

“Bookshelf.”

Kenny faltered. He’d already been on his way to the dresser. Kenny looked sceptically at his friend, but Stan only rolled his eyes and said, “dude my dresser gets used all the time. No one in my family reads.”

Kenny snorted, changing direction, he went to the bookshelf. Sure enough there it was, right next to a copy of Brave New World they’d read in tenth grade. Taking it from the shelf, Kenny rolled it around in his hands.

“Stan has anyone ever told you you’re a genius?” Leaning back on his palms, Stan rolled his head lazily in Kenny’s direction.

“Not nearly enough, no,” he said. Kenny glanced his way and smiled.

“You must get it from your dad.”

“Gross, dude. Don’t talk about my dad right now.”

And Kenny, that fucker, just turned to him bright-eyed and innocent.

“Why not?”

“You fucking know why.”

“Aw you don’t like him?” he said. Sauntering back over Kenny got to his knees and straddled him. Running a hand up Stan’s chest, he shimmied his hips so Stan’s dick settled between his ass cheeks. With a smirk, he squeezed. “Want me to be your daddy instead?”

Stan groaned. He let his head drop to Kenny’s shoulder.

“Ken, you’re really confusing my boner right now.”

But Kenny only raised an eyebrow. Again, he looked like he knew exactly what he was doing. Kenny knew a switch when he saw one.

“Am I?”

His fingers had found the joint again. Bringing it to his lips, Kenny lit it, and Stan was captivated. Naked, hard, smoke pouring from his lips in a French inhale, he was the picture of sin.

“Jesus Christ dude,” Stan muttered, already reaching for the lube. His cock was throbbing painfully. Kenny just laughed. From anyone else, it would have seemed mean, but not from him. From Kenny, laughter bubbled like foam on the shore. It blossomed around them, echoing notes of their chemical and natural high.

“Relax, Stan,” he said, inhaling once more. This time he set the joint aside, stubbing it out. When he exhaled he did it into Stan’s mouth, murmuring around the fumes. “All in good fun, right?”  

Smoke filling his lungs, Stan met his every kiss. The rush was immediate this time and it took the weight off his fingertips. His head felt light, and when he spread the lube on his fingers Stan was mesmerised by the cool feeling. Slowly he ran his fingers down the curve of Kenny’s ass, enjoying the shivers and hums he elicited. Then he touched Kenny’s hole, he didn’t press right away, but traced the ring so he could feel Kenny react to his touch.

Biting into Kenny’s neck, he pushed a finger inside and steadily worked him open. They kissed all the way through it, as one finger became two became three. Kenny was leaking against them by the time he was ready and scratching his fingers down Stan’s back. But sat where he was, cross legged with someone on top of him, Stan had little room to move anywhere.

“Ken…” Stan panted. He hated that he _panted_. _Christ_ , he was so desperate for this. _“_ Kenny, I can’t… I can’t move,” he gasped, and Kenny stroked him soothingly.  

“Who said you had to?” he breathed, kneeling up and pulling Stan along with him by the chin. Stan followed him with heavy eyes. With a devious smile, Kenny pecked at his lips. “Let daddy take care of it”

“Kenny, for fucks sa…” but he never finished his thought. It was swallowed like smoke when Kenny lowered himself onto Stan so fast all the came out were curses.

Moving experimentally, Kenny traced a hand up Stan’s chest and grinned.

“I think you might be more comfortable with it than you think Stan.”

He didn’t understand what he meant at first, then he didn’t understand why they had to have this conversation now when Kenny felt so tight around him he thought he might come then and there.

“Can we _please_ save the Freudian shit for later?” he ground out, but he was frustrated not annoyed, and his words had no edge to them. What Kenny was doing wasn’t nearly enough.

But his friend just kept pushing. Lifting nearly off, he moved his hips in a circle and leered.

“Why?”

“You know…” Stan was cut short when Kenny slammed down again. “Look just… stop talking.”

In the smoke and the haze, Kenny leaned over him like a mirage. A smug and provocative mirage. He spoke with a drawl, slowed by weed and heady with sex.

 “I don’t know, Marsh, I think you’d better make me.”

And he did.  

Stan moved so suddenly Kenny could only yelp in surprise. His back hit the floor with a thud, and he gripped his arms tightly around Stan’s neck, bursting with exhilarated laughter. This time there was no resistance, Kenny was so open, Stan was completely buried inside him with the first thrust. Kenny could only throw his head back and hold on. With a slanted kiss to his temple, Stan began to thrust. It wasn’t exploratory, they were too used to this game. Just as Kenny knew how to urge him on, Stan knew how bring it down.

He could get Kenny to the edge but knew just where to stop before he tipped him over. He did it now. Rolling his hips, he pushed into Kenny slowly and shallowly. Usually when he did this with other people, they would grow impatient and want him to go faster. With Kenny it was different. He rode out every one of Stan’s thrusts, losing himself to the moment. Gradually his breath would start to stutter, and he’d clench around Stan’s length until he was barely able to hold on.

Only when Kenny was all but spilling over, would Stan take if further. Gripping tightly at Kenny’s hair he thrusted hard, finally sinking all the way in. It ripped their moans from them. There was no stopping from this point on. Stan thrust into him relentlessly

Kenny gripped his own cock, stroking himself in time to Stan’s movements. It rippled around him, and Stan’s head had already been spinning, but in that moment, he lost control.

“Ken.”

Stan stuttered out his name, raining kisses along his jaw. Kenny was right there with him.

“… _fuck_.. _Stan_.” He said it over and over again, like a mantra, punctuated in kisses and words Stan was too delirious to remember. To stop his mouth, Stan pulled him into one last kiss before his eyes rolled shut and they came together in hot spurts and stuttered groans.

They collapsed into each other. When their breathing re-stabilised, Stan rolled off him, landing on his back on the worn-out carpet. Wiping himself down with a stray t-shirt, Kenny rolled onto his front and lay his head in his arms. They shared a silence for a moment.

Stan’s head felt clearer after cumming. His thoughts weren’t as jumbled as they had been a few minutes before. Only on the comedown did he realise how high the joints had had him flying.

Throwing his eyes to the ceiling, he let out a little laugh of wonder.

“So… you’re a little shit when you’re high huh?”

Kenny had barely moved an inch since they finished, but at his words, he snapped up instantly and for a second actually looked offended.

“What?!” he gasped, slapping his hand onto Stan’s chest. “How dare you! I’m a little shit all the time.”   

Stan lost his breath a little at the hit, but he laughed anyway. Rolling to his side, he rested his head in his hand and faced his friend.

“So what, you just wanted to piss me off?”

Threading his fingers together under his chin, Kenny seemed to consider his answer before he looked Stan’s way, grinning wickedly.

“Little bit yeah. Next time I think I’ll go with whaling.”

Stan laughed. It was just so absurd.

“What the hell for?”

Kenny’s expression changed, morphing into something softer. He brought his fingers to Stan’s forehead, brushing aside errant strands of hair.

“You’re hot when you’re annoyed,” he mumbled, and his smile only broadened as something else occurred to him. “Hey, let me rim you next time. You look like you need your ass eaten.”

The blush erupted on Stan’s face. He rolled onto his back, covering his face with a groan.  

“Fucking hell dude, you have no shame.”

Stan didn’t have to look to hear the self-satisfaction when Kenny leaned over him, pecking kisses along his jaw. “Not a single inch.”

Stan didn’t need to hear it. He already knew. It’s one of the things he loved about him.

Running a hand to the back of his neck, he pulled him into a kiss. Kenny’s body was hot against him. They fit perfectly. Sliding a leg between Stan’s and bringing him close, Kenny kissed him tenderly.

Ok…

Yeah, so maybe it was love.


End file.
